Ars Technica’s favorite films in 2022

[Karlston]

This year we gingerly ventured back into theaters, but streaming is still in the game

 

Aurich Lawson | Getty Images

 

In 2022, film lovers weary of two years of a raging pandemic started gingerly dipping their toes back into the theatrical movie experience. And while the pickings might have been a bit slimmer than in pre-pandemic years, there were still plenty of tantalizing options, from the usual blockbuster superhero movies from the Marvel and DC cinematic universes, to quirky indie features and surprise gems from Netflix.

 

We're once again opting for an unranked list, with the exception of our "year's best" vote at the very end so you might look over the variety of genres and options and possibly add surprises to your eventual watchlist. As ever, we invite you to head to the comments and add your own suggestions for films released in 2022.

 

Things get weird when two strangers double-book a rental home in Barbarian. 

20th Century Studios

Barbarian 

Don’t watch the trailer, don’t even read a synopsis—just watch this movie.

 

Such was the advice I got before watching this year’s buzzy horror film Barbarian, and I’m glad I took it. It’s advice I’d extend to anyone reading this—if you enjoy horror, don’t even read the rest of this blurb. Just watch it—you can stream it on HBO Max right now.

 

But okay, for those who need a little more convincing, I’ll give the lightest of introductions. The film opens on a woman checking into a rental home in Detroit—until she realizes it has been double-booked and is already being occupied. She decides to stay the night anyway. Things get weird. Then they get weirder.

 

That’s about all I’m willing to give up here. At no point during my viewing did I know where the film was heading next, and I think that’s the best way to experience this movie. Barbarian is one of those wild-ride horror romps that’s best enjoyed with similarly uninitiated friends—everyone squirming and exclaiming and jumping out of their seats together as the craziness unfolds.

 

The movie has its fair share of chills and thrills, sure, but it’s also hilarious—it gave me the biggest, most genuine belly laughs of any film I saw all year. A respectable amount of good horror films came out in 2022, but if you’re looking for the best, look no further.

 

—Aaron Zimmerman

 

 

Selina Kyle (Zoë Kravitz) and Batman (Robert Pattinson) lead the long-but-enjoyable proceedings of The Batman.

Warner Bros. Pictures

The Batman

The Batman is a DC Comics film for people who watch way too many movies. Director and co-writer Matt Reeves (War for the Planet of the Apes) has concocted an intoxicating mix of indulgence, pulp, bombast, and vulnerability that absolutely answers the question of why the world needs another Batman film. Even better, Robert Pattinson (The Lighthouse) resurrects a role that has been otherwise run into the ground. Better than Michael Keaton? Oof, that's a coin flip. Best Batman actor since Keaton? Absolutely.

 

What Reeves is really interested in is showing us a very different kind of Bruce Wayne than in other films: millennial, rich, sullen, ineffectual, and bewildered. Other Batman actors have shrugged off the weirdness of a rich man turned masked vigilante, but Pattinson convincingly wrestles with his inherited privilege—making Wayne more likable and empathetic as a result.

 

It's not a perfect Batman production. You'll have to endure roughly 15 minutes of aggressively grim, dark tone setting before Reeves and Pattinson settle into their vengeance-filled Batusi dance. And Reeves absolutely loses control of his Batmobile by the film's end, especially as he fakes viewers out with one ending in order to lead them through an overlong, undramatic coda. But I'm not sure a "producer's cut," which would strip The Batman of its most indulgent tendencies, would make this a better film, and I applaud DC for letting Reeves go wild. The result makes Batman fascinating and tangible all over again, much like when filmmaker Tim Burton and Keaton reimagined the character in the wake of the over-the-top '60s TV series.

 

—Sam Machkovech

 

Knuckles and Sonic.

Paramount / Sega

Sonic the Hedgehog 2

Sonic the Hedgehog 2 is the snappy, fun-for-everyone film that the first live-action Sonic film should have been. It's loyal to the source games and comics without getting hamstrung by reverence. Its best laughs are earned. Its cheesiest laughs are easy to shrug off. And while Jim Carrey returns with an enjoyably madcap turn as the villain, the rest of the production has stepped up to pump life into the non-Carrey moments. Sonic 2's action sequences and special effects deliver, and "Robotnik's army of drones" looks more series-authentic this time around. And the fur and eye rendering on Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles make them easier to watch and invest in this time around—all a far cry from how bad it nearly looked in the first film.

 

Don't get your hopes up that Sonic 2 will reinvent the game-to-film genre. This is still a goofy movie made for kids and families—a lengthy "Uptown Funk" dance sequence hammers that point home—though Carrey and Schwartz each have memorable, surprising jokes for the adults in the room. Ben Schwartz's amped-teenager turn as Sonic's voice is easier to like this time around, and that's largely because the plot takes him far from his Everyman human handler Tom (James Marsden, Westworld). In the first film, this relationship was serviceable at best, but the two characters are a lot more fun when they're separated. The character of Sonic finally has a dynamic ensemble cast to bounce off of.

 

—Sam Machkovech

 

Jane (Natalie Portman) and Thor (Chris Hemsworth) are back at it in Thor: Love and Thunder.

Marvel Studios

Thor: Love and Thunder

In 14 years of Marvel Studios films, the company has never as successfully made an homage to Jim Henson as this. At its most madcap, Thor: Love and Thunder giddily honors the likes of Fraggle Rock and The Muppet Show in terms of a rogue's gallery of goofballs and kiddos chewing up the film's gilded, Technicolor scenery. And at its darkest, it feels like a direct descendant of Labyrinth, as its villainy combines no-holding-back ruthlessness with some impressively staged shadow realms.

 

Costars Natalie Portman and Chris Hemsworth nail the film's titular L-word in remarkable fashion. This action film knows that it's smothering a slab of rom-com peanut butter with ridiculous superhero-stakes chocolate, and the film's leads dance around this fact, mostly in joking fashion while still building to a believable, finale-clinching connection. Tessa Thompson finally gets ample screen time and breathing room to establish herself as both a likable foil and a badass in her own right.

 

In 2017's Thor: Ragnarok, writer/director Taika Waititi put his quirky stamp on the otherwise drab Avengers-offshoot series about all things Asgard. But that film's shift toward amped-up humor, amusing as it was, was also hamstrung by a few things: a touchy relationship between Thor and his brother Loki and an omnipresent Marvel Studios need to keep the Infinity Stones boulder tumbling forward. Four years later, freed from those constraints, Waititi gets to pick and choose how to tell a new, post-Endgame story about Thor. And it's a rousing success, right up there with the filmmaker's legendary 2016 film Hunt for the Wilderpeople.

 

—Sam Machkovech

 

Unsurprisingly, things get strange in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness.

Marvel Studios

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

On paper, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is a formulaic Marvel Studios superhero romp. Its plot beats read like sticky notes slapped onto an overpaid executive's wall: A superhero arrives, seems all-powerful, then runs into an unstoppable foe. That strife turns the world upside down, and in resolving that change, the hero mends something in themselves to ultimately save the day, all while finding equal parts comedy and heart when the film's world gets weird.

 

But a great film can succeed even while twisted around a formulaic plot, and it's here that Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness  wins out. Even though it comes with the Marvel pitfall of predictability, it also stands as a grand example of the company letting filmmakers be themselves—and shows how clever, visually arresting filmmaking can transform "formulaic" plot beats into a fascinating journey for multiple characters. Plus, after so much alternate-universe wackiness in multiple Spider-Man films, this film surprises by finding refreshing uses of the concept.

 

What better way to show how far the universe of Marvel films has come in the past two decades than to have Sam "is he seriously dancing" Raimi stretch out his weird filmmaking legs and regain his blockbuster-level comfort? This film could be the most watchable Raimi film yet. What's more, it works as a neatly sealed, self-contained story of both world-saving stakes and intimate character growth, all while allowing a filmmaker's vision to be heeded more than the demands of the MCU narrative. For MCU completists, this is a disposable film, able to exist without seeing the films that came before or after it. And yet, it somehow feels like an indispensable example of the MCU tentpole done right.

 

—Sam Machkovech

 

Tom Cruise, still crazy after all these years.

Skydance Productions

Top Gun: Maverick

Top Gun: Maverick feels like a Top Gun film that turns its Top Gun-ness on its head. The original film dynamic of a hotshot student blowing up the classic order appears in small doses, but Top Gun: Maverick more often reckons with its standout hotshot doubling as a role model and leader—and the cast and script alike lap this uneasy balance up. The series' predilection for steering military theater toward Hollywood-style silliness is arguably more tolerable, as tempered by a savvy script and cutting-edge stunt work. The character development hits important notes for both Pete "Maverick" Mitchell (Tom Cruise) and the people in his high-speed orbit, and the film's focused supporting cast mostly hits the mark.

 

An aging-yet-excited Tom Cruise never steps beyond his pay grade. The Top Gun star of roughly 35 years ago ruled movie theaters for different reasons than the man he is today, yet this film never sees his character Maverick betray his beloved traits or feel like an old man faking like a 20-something hotshot. A few of the series' moving parts have been jettisoned so many years later, and lifetime fans of the film will definitely notice them. But Top Gun's core tenets—incredible fighter-jet combat, enjoyable cheese, and the big-grin smile of Cruise—have returned in arguably finer form than the original.

 

Every major flight scene includes per-cockpit camera rigs that emphasize the added height of IMAX's 16:10 ratio, and in these moments, flying is choreographed to let this camera angle showcase Top Gun-caliber stuff. You might see another plane in view, or vapor trails, or dumped flares dancing and billowing smoke, or a glancing shadow of the jet against the Earth's surface because the F/A-18 Hornet is actually flying that freaking low in real life. In these moments, the actors don't hesitate to explode with emotion, whether shrinking back or splashing their palms on the cockpit glass that extends across the entire IMAX screen. F/A-18 stunts and combat have never looked better.

 

—Sam Machkovech

 

Alice, Max, Jennifer, Victor, and Francoise are suburbanites who find themselves trapped indoors together during a robot uprising in Bigbug.

Netflix

Bigbug

Any new film from from visionary French director Jean-Pierre Jeunet is an unequivocal treat, and thanks to Netflix, this year brought us the delightfully quirky Bigbug, about a colorful group of bickering suburbanites who find themselves stuck together when an android uprising causes their household robots to lock them in the house. The oblivious humans in the household are hell-bent on getting out, while their robots are just as determined to keep them safely inside. Tensions inevitably rise to a breaking point. Will all that infighting doom the humans and reduce their robots to so much scrap metal?

 

As always, Jeunet has created a striking visual palette for his film, incorporating the kind of vibrant colors that made his 2001 film Amelie such a treat for the eyeballs—except here they're harsher and sharper around the edges, as befitting an overly bright futuristic dystopia and the director's sharp, biting satire. Granted, the characters are a bit two-dimensional, and thematically it lacks the depth of Jeunet's best work.

 

But even Jeunet's darkest films are infused with a warmth, sweetness, and enduring love for the human condition, and this one is no exception. As the household robots doggedly attempt to imitate their humans to win their trust—attempting jokes and grappling with philosophical questions like Zhuangzi's butterfly dream—bonds inevitably begin to form between man and machine. Bigbug is ultimately a very smart, singular piece of film-making, a sparkling comedy that lifts the spirits and dazzles the eyes. It is, in short, quintessential Jeunet, and I hope this under-appreciated director has the chance to make many more films in the years to come.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

 

Nicholas Cage gets meta with Pedro Pascal in The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Lionsgate

The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Nicholas Cage goes full meta in the sly action comedy The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, playing a loose caricature of himself that is grounded just enough in reality to make it believable—and a whole lot of fun. The premise is simple: despite his long illustrious career, Cage has lost on several major roles, and his relationship with his ex-wife and daughter is increasingly strained.

 

He makes an impulsive decision to retire from acting—but first, he accepts a paid gig offering him $1 million to be a guest of honor at the birthday party of billionaire playboy Javier Gutierrez (Pedro Pascal) in Majorca. But Gutierrez really just wants to pitch his screenplay, in hopes of convincing Cage to star in the movie. Oh, he's also  a suspected arms dealer and under FBI surveillance, so naturally shenanigans ensue,

 

What makes this film work is the marvelous chemistry between Cage and Pascal, who are clearly having a blast hamming it up to gonzo levels. That fuels the transformation of their respective characters' fundamental relationship, from a jaded star who just wants the money and a mega-fan boy who wields power over his idol because he can give him that money, to genuine friendship. (They both love The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, and Gutierrez introduces Cage to the delights of Paddington 2.)  Honestly, this could literally be the role Nic Cage was born to play. And he couldn't ask for a better costar than Pascal.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

 

Adam Sandler plays an NBA talent scout for the Philadelphia Sixers in Hustle

Netflix

Hustle

I'm a Sixers fan by marriage, so there's some built-in bias for Hustle, a film that focuses on a talent scout for the Philadelphia 76ers. Adam Sandler plays Stanley Sugarman, a talent scout whose frequent travel has caused problems in his relationships with his wife and daughter. He wants to be an assistant coach so he can stay home with his family, and is on the verge of achieving that dream—but the Sixers owner dies suddenly, and his son and heir wants to keep him as a talent scout. While in Spain, Stanley discovers a gifted and completely unknown player, Bo Cruz (current Toronto Raptors wing Juancho Hernangomez), at a local pickup game, and brings him back to the States to convince the team's new owner to sign Cruz.

 

There are plenty of cameos of current and former NBA players to delight serious and/or casual basketball fans: Tyrese Maxey, Tobias Harris, Seth Curry, Matisse Thybulle, Luka Doncic, Julius Erving, Charles Barkley, Shaquille O'Neal, and Sixers coach Doc Rivers, to name a few. (7'4" NBA journeyman Boban Marjanovic—who made his film debut in John Wick Parabellum—plays the "Big Serbian.") But it's Sandler's stellar dramatic performance that drives this film. The actor embodies both the world-weary disillusionment and stubborn resilience and hopefulness of the character, whose genuine passion for the game shines through above all else.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

 

Daniel Craig returns as detective Benoit Blanc in Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery

Netflix

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery

Daniel Craig and his fake Southern drawl are back and better than ever as quirky detective Benoit Blanc in Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery, director Rian Johnson's hotly anticipated sequel to 2019's marvelous Knives Out. Johnson has assembled an equally colorful all-star ensemble cast of suspects for this sophomore outing. He wrote the script for Glass Onion during the pandemic, inspired particularly by the Christie-based "tropical getaway" whodunnit Evil Under the Sun (1982), as well as a 1973 film called The Last of Sheila—an underappreciated gem.

 

Tech billionaire Miles Bron (Edward Norton) invites a coterie of friends to his private island for the weekend—and somehow Benoit Blanc also received an invitation. There is tech entrepreneur Cassandra "Andi" Brand (Janelle Monáe); Claire Debella (Kathryn Hahn), an ambitious governor of Connecticut keen to run for the US Senate; one of Bron's scientists, Lionel Toussaint (Leslie Odom Jr.); a former supermodel turned fashion designer named Birdie Jay (Kate Hudson); a Twitch star and men's rights activist named Duke Cody (Dave Bautista); and Duke's comely assistant and girlfriend Whiskey (Madelyn Cline).

 

At dinner, Bron announces that he's hidden clues all around the island, and his guests must solve his carefully staged  "murder."  Whoever can name the killer wins the game. Of course, the lights unexpectedly go out, and an actual murder takes place. Fortunately (or not, for the murderer), Blanc is on the case. Whereas Knives Out took place in an intimate, New England mansion setting, skewering complicated family relationships, Glass Onion goes all-in on skewering big, glitzy, over-the-top luxury, as befits Miles Bron's quintessential tech-bro. (Per Johnson, any similarities to a certain beleaguered new owner of a popular social media platform are purely coincidental.) But the humor remains delightfully wry, the dialogue is sharp and smart, and the twists and turns as creative and inspired as the film's much-praised predecessor. The entire cast is having a blast, and the viewer can't help but be swept up in the fun.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

 

A dinner to die for?

Searchlight Pictures

The Menu

At the highest levels of fine dining, a multi-course meal can attain a level of theatricality that elevates it to performance art. In the case of horror/comedy The Menu, it's a particularly macabre kind of performance art. Ralph Fiennes stars as Julian Slowik, a disillusioned celebrity chef who presides over a fictional molecular gastronomy restaurant called Hawthorne, located on an exclusive private island.

 

Chef Slowik invites a select group of guests for a very special dinner, including a noted food critic (Janet McTeer); her editor (Paul Adelstein); an arrogant actor past his prime (John Leguizamo); his girlfriend and assistant (Aimee Carrero); a wealthy businessman and his wife (Reed Birney and Judith Light); and an obnoxious trio of tech bros who work for the restaurant's angel investor. Finally, there is Tyler (Nicholas Hoult) and his date Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy). She was a last-minute substitute when Tyler's girlfriend unexpectedly dumped him, and her presence throws a curveball into Chef Slowik's meticulously planned thematic menu for the evening.

 

The story's inspiration came from writer Will Tracy, who enjoyed a fancy meal at Cornelius Sjømatrestaurant in Bergen, Norway, during his honeymoon and mentioned his idea for a film to his cowriter Seth Reiss. Real-life renowned chef Dominique Crenn—who calls her approach "poetic culinaria"—recreated several dishes from her own San Francisco restaurant for the film, with some deliciously fiendish fictional flourishes. You'll never think about S'mores quite the same way after seeing Chef Slowik's macabre take on the classic fireside treat.

 

This is a subculture that presents an easy target for cheap shots, but The Menu opts for sharp, scalpel precision in its satire. Its barbs often leave the viewer speechless with delight, like the bread course served without anything so pedestrian as actual bread, just the fancy accoutrements—and a pinot noir with "notes of longing and regret." (There's a frequently hilarious spoiler-filled Reddit thread on r/movies devoted to The Menu.) Director Mark Mylod masterfully controls the tone throughout, beginning with odd passive-aggressive comments from Chef Slowik and his staff ("You will eat less than you desire and more than you deserve"), before escalating into outright horror. And Mylod does it all without ever sacrificing the biting comedy that makes this film such a delectable pleasure.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

 

Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert—collectively known as Daniels—are the directors of Everything Everywhere All at Once, starring Michelle Yeoh.

A24

Ars' best film of 2022: Everything Everywhere All at Once

Apart from The Menu, no other film this year even came close to the levels of inspired outrageousness of this truly unique, genre-busting gem. The incomparable Michelle Yeoh stars as Evelyn Wang, a harried Chinese American laundromat owner facing an IRS audit. She's just trying to sift through a mountain of paperwork and crumpled receipts to keep her life from falling apart when she unexpectedly gets pulled into an epic battle across multiple timelines (including one where everyone has hot dogs for fingers).

 

Directors Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert—collectively known as Daniels—are known for their ability to straddle genres. Here, they deftly blend comic absurdity and outré weirdness with moments of gut-wrenching poignancy, not to mention top-notch fight choreography that harks back to classic Hong Kong action movies.

 

Everything Everywhere All at Once is only their second feature film together, but you'd never know it by the assured hand Daniels brought to bear on the project, somehow bringing a chaotic jumble of disparate elements together into a coherent whole that both surprises and delights. It's wacky, bizarre (in the best sense of the word), and embraces the craziness of alternate universes, but there's an underlying sweetness and kindness that lends emotional resonance to the key relationships. This is a film that yields fresh insights with every viewing—like the meaning of the black-hole-like "everything bagel" threatening to suck the entire multiverse into oblivion.

 

—Jennifer Ouellette

 

 

Ars Technica’s favorite films in 2022